Frozen Butterfly Arc 1
by skywiseskychan
Summary: You can't just wake up one day and execute your evil plans. It requires thought, preparation, and testing. This is the story of one of those tests from a different point of view. Kari Ceallaigh finds them-self in a struggle for life, or death in Megatokyo 2031 before the curtain rises on the OVA's. Please forgive the writing it is being edited now.
1. Chapter 1

Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter 1.3 – Wake Up!

I woke in a haze of blurry light, feeling strangely disassociated from my body.

Every movement seemed to take my full concentration, drawing a breath, letting it out.

drawing a breath,

letting it out,

drawing a breath,

letting it out.

As I lay there slowly remembering how to breathe I became aware of a background murmur, voices pinging in my mind. Just like that awareness snapped into clear understanding, the crisp tones those of a man imperiously asking "Why hasn't _it_ opened its eyes yet, have you wasted my time calling me down for this activation?"

Wait, opened its eyes? Almost afraid to be right, I deliberately focused on parting my lashes. The blurred light gave way slowly to a pale white paneled ceiling. My eyes now open providing me a clear view. It was strange, taking long moments for me to comprehend what I saw. My mind traced the entire shape of a light fixture before realizing what I was looking at.

Panic began to fill my thoughts, this was the first thing I could recall seeing; the first thing since, since, dinner, or driving home? I couldn't remember and suddenly being here, lying in a bed and taking in the medical equipment surrounding me it began to make a dreadful kind of sense.

The slight smell of hydrocarbons and motor oil – _Carbon 85% Hydrogen 12% Nitrogen 1% Oxygen 1% Sulfur 1% _– didn't, and although I couldn't recognize any of the machines specifically it all still lead to a single conclusion. I was lying on a bed, no, strapped to one, the press of nylon straps and thin sheets leaping to mind as I thought about it. I looked down and the world unaccountably did not seem to shift or sway, my breath held steady, pulse even, despite seeing something that shouldn't be there. Two, disturbingly prominent mounds, that on reflection could only be a pair of breasts. My breasts, rising up right where a flat chest should have been, shouldn't it?

I sat there unsuccessfully processing that, thoughts jumping from Ranma to Heinlein, logic arguing it couldn't be, facts and the ghost sensation of cloth resting on skin that it must, and beneath it all a feeling of quiet pride. So distracting were these thoughts that it took one of the men snapping his fingers in front of my face to draw my attention back from the abyss to the conversation around me.

Curiously enough I noticed both the ceiling and his fingers remained in focus so detailed it was slightly dizzying adding the power of a headache to my response. "Yes, of course I can speak, what's going on, where am I?" Irritation and upset ringing in my voice, my subtly unfamiliar voice, as I found myself speaking with a panicked falsetto.

Ignoring me now, apparently the simple fact I responded enough for him the severe sounding man – Japanese and wearing a finely tailored suit – turned to face another. Tracking his glance, which required a very deliberate shift of my head revealed another man wearing an almost stereotypical white overcoat. "Congratulations, it appears you've been successful." The Suite's tone was dry, something in his posture telling me that congratulations were the last thing on his mind as he went on. "I will want an update on the status of the project by the end of the day." Then with a brisk nod he spun on his heel and was out the door before I could think of blinking.

My indignation rising as I was ignored, dismissed without even a glance. I turned my head, again a very requiring deliberate motion the act seeming almost unnatural to watch the doctor slowly rise out of a deep bow, the clang of the door falling shut in his superior's wake. The doctor was also Japanese; a rail-thin man, with balding hair in a poor comb over and thin glasses, _probability of being available 74%._ I spoke up. "Well, are you going to say anything?" I said, my voice colder than I remember being capable of, but with just the right level of bite to make him respond.

The man jerked up looking over at me, his face twitching slightly in surprise but showing little reaction beyond that. Still I knew somehow that he was pleased, it was strange. I'd never seen him before and certainly he wasn't smiling but as I lay there, looking at him I kept fixating on details; the crinkle of eyelid here, the twitch of cheek there, and measuring his changing pulse and I was sure, _certainty 87.5%_, that he was pleasantly surprised. That certainty combined with the need to actually think about it to swallow nervously drove home the surreality of the situation.

"Oh yes, please to excuse me." He said a smile growing across his face. "My name is Sutekina-san." He paused, as if to get his bearings before continuing. "You have been… in tragic accident, yes, we have just to recover your mind done. Please to let us know how you are feel. Is you in discomfort, or of having any trouble thinking clearly?"

After his smooth speech earlier his suddenly stilted English felt wrong, but I didn't focus on that long. Instead I found myself contemplating his request and actually I really was quite comfortable, despite being strapped down, and although my body obviously wasn't original – for some reason the concept that it wasn't mine just didn't process. The pinch of straps wasn't actually painful, and I was functioning just fine without any of the minor annoyances, itches, aches or pains I was familiar with ignoring from my old body.

Sure I was aware of some things that might have been considered annoying, the imprint of the hospital gown's ties in my back, the chill of the air _17 degrees Celsius_ on my toes, but somehow none of it really bothered me. Certainly they couldn't hold a candle to realizing that I thought possessively of my current body. It was mine, if not the original, and I couldn't quite parse those thoughts, the problem threatening to drag me down into a silently screaming vortex of frustrated confusion.

Either he was a naturally patient man or the quagmire of these thoughts took no time at all for he showed no irritation awaiting my reply. I settled for shaking my head slightly, the slight pause between decision and implementation as I had to think about doing so troubling enough to bring up. "I seem to be having to think about everything I do." My light contralto voice mirroring the concern and embarrassment at having to admit it quite well. It also brought to mind that this was a very good ploy to engage the scientist's emotional protective responses and aid in creating a bond with my savior. Thoughts of which sent a warm almost happy feeling through my body.

Recognizing that I had answered in perfectly fluent Japanese rather than English to his question was enough to make me almost miss his reply, and only the unexpected ability to rapidly replay, with perfect recall his words, let me catch it. The impression of surprise and sense of accomplishment on his face at hearing his native tongue only increased his pride towards me, _98% certainty._

"Yes, that's a normal issue, even for standard models, it takes some time for the neural architecture to pattern natural reactions and movements into the body. However we've made quite a bit of progress and I don't believe you will have any real difficulty doing so. Now then, do you recall signing up for cryogenics?" His giddiness only tempered by the obligation to explaining as I nodded once more, this time requiring only a little attention to the motion required, too many troubling thoughts in the back of my mind to make sense of all his, and my, physiological responses.

"Well then, good. Your body died in late 2012, from an automobile accident. However the team responsible for the safe recovery and storage of your brain was unusually lucky and competent. We believe you should retain over 90% of your memories once given time to sit back and think, recovering and recreating the mental pathways." Anticipating my next request, the hesitation imposed as I had to think about taking a deep breath to voice it he went on. "Miss Kari, It is now 2031, and while cryotech incorporated no longer exists we took custody of your mind and have now inserted you into a fully functioning and functional cyberdroid."

By the time he finished speaking I had had enough time to think, to realize that I was not nearly panicked enough for the situation and decided to speak up on the matter. "Why aren't I screaming my head off, in English by the way, I was male, now I'm clearly not, and what is a cyberdroid? Shouldn't I have been resuscitated in my original body or my clone or something like that, wasn't it the deal?"

"Oh, really?" he peered at me curiously. "I'm terribly sorry, we thought from your given name you were female, and of course well, with only your brain in storage… in any case your contract did not specify the form in which you were to be revived, or limitations. Perhaps something was lost with the merger. Please forgive us for such an unfortunate mistake. Please, can you tell me, are you feeling uncomfortable with yourself, your body?" His words made some funny sort of sense, but I knew they were a lie – _90% certain subject exhibiting facial tick and change in posture_, and when I concentrated on it more small clues came immediately to the forefront of my mind. _Pulse, respiration, pupil dilation_, every clue pointing to a well-planned deception performed by an amateur, and I had no idea why I knew that.

Still, he _deserved_ some kind of response, and I just didn't feel like lying quite yet, even as I did decided then and there not to trust my wellbeing to these people a moment longer than absolutely necessary. "No, actually, it's almost concerning how… comfortable being me feels." _Shift in muscle tension indicates subject pleased at response._ "You haven't tampered with my mind have you?" That concern, the largest I could think of was at the forefront of my mind. I didn't know how or why I could read him so well, but at least asking the question would get an answer and if he lied or not I would have the truth.

"Oh no, that would completely invalidate the procedure." He answered with admirable sincerity _probability 75%_. "Why, you don't even have any of the standard overrides or security conditioning for your model. It was part of the test design specifications that your mind and free will be entirely un-tampered with. It is only the hardware that retains any…" I think he might have gone on but a rather harried individual _subject under pressure, anxious 80% probable_, younger, with much better personal grooming habits entered the room at an indecorous pace. "That's quite enough information for now. Doctor, why don't you let him adjust for an hour or two and rest." Flashing me an insincere smile, I suspected he hadn't just referred to my old gender out of politeness due to listening in. This time I was almost able to feel myself making the subconscious calculations on his sincerity. "We'll be back to speak with you more in a little while Ms. Ceallaigh, until then just relax, and let us know if you have any problems or are uncomfortable." – S_ubject gestures of concern false 99% probable._

He virtually dragged Dr. Sutekina out of the room with him, leaving me alone, still strapped down, and left to think about my situation to the echoes of the closing door. I would have expected it to be dull, but surprisingly as I lay there going over what had happened, analyzing it moment by moment, I found plenty to occupy my attention. The first thing of course being my body. It didn't seem an immediate concern, which of course was why I immediately started to mentally panic, something that is surprisingly hard to do when your breathing is steady, pulse normal and without the slightest hint of adrenaline to help hysteria along. I just didn't feel alien to myself. In every story I ever read where this sort of thing happened the protagonist felt upset, out of place, and uncomfortable. But to be honest I just sort of felt right – _functioning at peak efficiency no problems detected. _

Now, awkward and self-conscious yes, but that wasn't because I was uncomfortable. Despite the restraints, it didn't feet wrong, just off. I had to keep thinking about everything I was doing, I was so unfamiliar with myself, my body.

It was like… learning to golf, stand like this, keep your eye on the ball, swing just so, and if you don't pay attention to each little movement you're going to slice and there goes another ball into the weeds. This was the same, but with a little less swing and much better kinesthesia. I spent half an hour _00:34:12 _just moving within the confines allowed to me, but already things were beginning to feel more… natural, less deliberate in execution. Unfortunately this growing familiarity just left me more time to think.

Okay, I'm dead. That's depressing. On the other hand I have a chance now to do all the things I never got around to before I died… Right, that's a mind bender right there. So, I was dead, but alive, and it seemed like I had all my memories and was myself, though how to know for sure. I decided then and there that is a path I'm not going to travel, true or not. I won't dive down that dark path and drive myself crazy with self-doubt.

So, I'm myself, I'm a cyberdroid, Accept it.

Though just what does that mean?

Just seeing my delicate fingers wiggle from the cuffs holding me to the bed I looked perfectly human. My fingers felt normal as I rubbed them together. The first noticeable difference came when pinching my hip didn't bring a yelp of pain. I knew it hurt, could feel the pain and certainly wasn't eager to prolong the experience, it just didn't keep me from thinking clearly and there was no overwhelming urge to stop. I hoped that was due to my cybernetic nature and not some previously unknown propensity towards masochism. Letting go I traced my hip through the thin hospital gown. It seemed to me I had a normal bone structure and I couldn't hear any whirring, ticking or engines to drive the movements so I assumed that whatever else it might be a cyberdroid was pretty human.

Straining as hard as I could the next conclusion was easy, I wasn't super strong, and not about to break the nylon straps keeping me in place. Just for grins I decided to hold my breath. Counting the seconds silently to myself I realized my count was off, one Mississippi just doesn't match an internal clock for timekeeping accuracy. I could feel the need for air, but it was muted, a desire rather than necessity and I decided to stop at the five minute mark exactly. I had the impression I could have pushed it longer but didn't want to risk injury, or breakage? I wonder which it would be.

My introspection was interrupted by the return of the second doctor, one whose specialty I was beginning to suspect was not internal medicine and definitely not bedside manner.

"Stop that" He snapped out sounding annoyed. "You'll damage yourself. Don't you realize how delicate you are? We just got you functioning don't go ruining our work now." It was official; he was not going on my list of favorite people.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you or anything, I was just, testing myself a little, there weren't cyberdroids when I di- was frozen, remember." I wasn't quite sure why I felt the need to defend myself or apologize but it was still there. A nervous tension floated through my body and a slight sickness in my stomach joining a blush on my cheeks from his scolding.

"So I don't exactly know what to expect, or limitations, anything. Do I need to eat, plug in, visit the little girl's room?" By the last question I could tell with a certain amount of satisfaction I was starting to annoy him and my embarrassed school age blush receded. _Focus of subject on unit –Self – increasing, recognition of independent thought reaching acceptable levels._

I think it was my attitude that threw him off balance. Whatever else he was expecting; an interrogation about my bathroom requirements in a biting sarcastic tone wasn't it. I got to watch him visibly pull himself together, a warm sensation in the back of my mind analyzing everything about him as he ran a hand through his hair, _subject flustered, 84% likelihood action taken to buy time_. Unfortunately he did consider his words before speaking again, clearly more composed and ready to explain on his terms not mine.

"I see, forgive me, you are the first recovery I've been in charge of and I forgot that there are things you wouldn't know." _Subject insincere 92% probability._ Assuming a lecturing stance he went on. "It would be best to go over what will happen in the next few days and your new body's capabilities. For most purposes you may treat it as you would your own, however be aware it needs far less food. Your current dietary requirements will be met directly through an IV solution specifically formulated to meet those needs. Later some food will be necessary to facilitate the chemical reactions that allow the proper function of your system. You can plug in directly to power some functions, but electricity alone will not support your systems and your model was not designed with that in mind. You are a class 33-S and as such far more biological in nature than most boomers. Your body requires down time for "sleep" an autonomous maintenance cycle. We will be evaluating your… mental return and after testing you will be allowed to leave."

I could feel the sleaziness coming from the man in waves, an uncomfortable oily sensation as he talked at me, not to me. Sure he could be telling the truth – _65% probability_, but despite his attempt to exude a feeling of concern and care all I really picked up was calculated grime and premeditated manipulation.

While what he said could make sense, I couldn't help but feel there was something off about the whole situation. It was all too, unpracticed assuming that brining people back from the dead was normal in 2031.

As I pondered that oily feeling in my mind I remembered, or perhaps more accurately recalled my first moments of consciousness, this was the 'first' activation and that to someone high up in this organization I wasn't a person, but a thing, an 'it' and the shifty behavior and lack of preparation began to make more sense.

They hadn't done this before. I was part of a test of some kind and if what the nice balding doctor had said was accurate while my body might be production my mind and getting it in here certainly wasn't. At best I was a beta test, A butterfly emerging from its cocoon hoping no bugs in the process would be large or vicious enough to eat me before I could spread my wings and fly.


	2. Chapter 2

Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter 2 – Flex those Wings 2.3

That evening the tests began. My concerns about being part of, if not the alpha test, for whatever process had been used to transfer mind to body only increased with my treatment.

Limited to the confines of the room, I was hooked to several IV's slowly pumping in fresh and out foul 'blood' – the process reminding me of a dialysis machine, one with a six foot tether marking the boundaries of my freedom.

The physical tests were obviously routine, something done many times and took barely half a day under Dr. Sutekina's care as he verified all my 'systems' were functioning correctly. Really it resembled a high tech medical exam more than taking a car to the mechanic like I expected.

Doctor Kechina, who's name I knew only from his employee badge took charge then. Not bothering to introduce himself he was on a clear mission, to make sure that my mind was intact, and that I was in full control of my faculties. Nothing else mattered; he had me sit there in my increasingly ratty paper gown answering question after question long into the night.

Getting him to answer a question in return was like pulling teeth. I could tell he didn't care about ME at all. To him I was obviously just an experiment a thing, even if the goal was to prove I was a person. The grilling only ended early that morning when finally he was too tired to continue. Not once did he ask me how I was doing or call me by name. Not once the entire time.

That morning I lay back to sleep, rest, enter a state of meditative regeneration, whatever. The room was just chilly enough to feel uncomfortable _2 degrees below optimum operational temperature_, and it took a long time for me to just… switch off and sleep.

That afternoon I woke up. One moment unconscious, the next my attention was sharp and focused, the soft scuff of footsteps outside the door drawing my attention. I was able to sit up and smooth out my 'smock' before Doctor Sutekina stepped into the room.

I smiled a little in relief at him as he entered; he was actually looking at ME instead of regarding me like a thing. I could tell because of his blush, _elevated pulse, dilation of pupils, increased respiration indicate arousal in subject._ It gave me a warm feeling in my stomach and my breath caught slightly as I noticed a very… uncomfortable reaction against the rough paper of my gown.

It was nice that he was noticing me… but did he have to NOTICE me to do it? I felt like squirming in my seat, I even started to before I realized the impulse as coming from some internal program of mine, _ anticipated 15% greater likelihood of successful intercourse upon completion of seduction subroutines. _

That was like a cold shower and I forced myself into stillness. The shock of having those kinds of instincts built in said a lot about my body's usual purpose. Still he was far more understanding and personable than Dr. Kechina had been last evening and I decided to put that vulnerability to use.

"I don't suppose you've got anything else to wear, a girl could get the wrong idea dressed like this and you wanting to play doctor." It was with my wry smile that I finally got something real to wear – it only took one unintentional fumbled attempt at flirtatious humor to send him packing in that regard. I guess once you realize the curvy body in front of you is no longer an inanimate bit of clay you can't go back to indifference in the face of a paper hospital gown.

"I'm sorry," his eyes darting up at me and back to the floor as he spoke, tongue running nervously across his lips. "I didn't realize you hadn't well, I'll be, right back." And he practically fled.

Frankly it was a relief to have a few moments to myself to come to terms with the encounter and my response to it. He wasn't even that attractive, and even if I swung that way he was just about the last man I could have seen myself attracted to. I just wasn't wired like that… or was I, now. Either way I would have to keep a close eye on my instincts from now on.

When he returned with a coverall I was grateful to slip into it, and out of my now tattered paper gown. Unfortunately with him standing there, back turned I didn't have a chance to look myself over and soon found myself once more caught up in an interview.

While he was clearly under the same marching orders as Dr. Kechina to validate my mental condition at least Dr. Sutekina tried to give the impression that this really had been done for my benefit and answered my questions in turn.

He explained how to open and use the data ports along my arm and that the buzzing in my head was the wireless connection they were using to monitor me. At first I wasn't sure what he was talking about, until I realized he didn't know himself. It wasn't really a buzzing at all, more of a feeling of exposure, like my clothes were too thin light shining through to warm my skin only in my mind.

It became more obvious that I was being kept from the outside world when I talked them or rather Dr. Sutekina into providing me a computer with an internet connection – to keep from going stir crazy with boredom. The access was highly regulated.

It opened on a company webpage, Genom "Building a better world". Recognizing the logo from the equipment around me I spent a few minutes reviewing the site and was… appalled, and amazed. They actually listed their company's profit's and employee numbers in relation to countries and came out in the top ten!

Beyond that they had a monopoly on cyberdroid production, the site proudly listing the models and utility of each. When my search on my own particular model came up with zero hits on their homepage and other sites I tried came back blocked it was another sign not all was right.

Persevering I did learn a few interesting tidbits reading between the lines. The future was "bigger and better than ever." I was in Tokyo, now MegaTokyo, cyberdroids also known as Boomers were common and had taken over many menial and construction jobs leading to major societal changes. And of personal concern with every failed search I ran adding to it, Boomer's did not have any rights.

I guess it was understandable given the number of Skynet incidents they seemed to have. Instances of boomers going rogue were almost too easy to find. That might help explain their repeated and unending tests of my mental stability but I felt it went deeper.

As night fell, or at least as the lights were turned down that second night I finally had a little solitude. I couldn't help the urge to check – it was really my first chance at privacy. Hanging a sheet up in front of the camera I quickly stripped out of the coverall Sutekina had found me. It had the Genom logo stamped on the back and front pocket, but otherwise was shapeless as a bag. I on the other hand was anatomically correct. I could feel the blush tingeing my cheeks even from just learning that much.

Saying I was anatomically correct was an understatement, whoever designed me was a real over achiever – I was a natural blond. Every detail was perfect, from random blemishes to sweat glands. After a confusing few minutes that mixed embarrassment and amusement as I 'felt myself up' I quickly slipped back into the coverall. My body might be willing, even warm to the thought but my mind wanted to find a dark safe place to hide. At least I mostly knew what I looked like now.

Pulling the sheet back down I lay on the bed using it as another barrier to hide from myself, starting to giggle a bit at the absurdity. I was nervous seeing myself and oddly glad there wasn't a mirror. Trying to think healthy thoughts, heck any thoughts other than where the gentle pleasant hum from my body seemed to originate I quickly discovered – remembered? – my serial number 27-33-S-4M83R.

Fixing upon it as a distraction I turned to the computer to try looking it up. While I didn't find myself registered anywhere, not even in the official government licensing database in spending so much time looking I did find the regulations on the structure of the code. Mine indicated my body was produced in 2027 – more than four years ago. A quick check against my 'elapsed runtime' indicated only a week more than the 24 hours I could remember since first waking up. The majority of that time stamped for organics regeneration. Why had I been in storage that long… and why wasn't my body registered with the government?

As I lay back trying to sleep and let the biological components of my body rest my awareness seemed to shrink down, sharpen and fuzz at the same time. The outside world fading from concern as I considered that this really was the first time 'I' had been in anything other than a storage cocoon, how should I feel about being me? There were no helpful prompts on this subject.

Unfortunately I still hadn't made up my mind by the time the lights came up in the morning. I blinked myself out of 'slow time' and felt full consciousness return. I didn't have to wait very long until Doctor Sutekina came in to wish me a good morning, carrying with him a small bag and a bottle of soda.

Raising an artful eyebrow at the oddity he read the question without my having to ask. "A gift, after um, well I just thought you might appreciate some real food, and this is" his face turning red I had an idea long before he finished trying to avoid answering. _88% probability contents of bag relate to intimate apparel. _"to make up for forgetting that we didn't… For later." He finished the sentence off with a little bow not meeting my eyes.

I was all smiles as I greedily took bag and bottle from him. A discrete glance proved my guess correct and so I set it aside. No matter that my pulse quickened at the thought I wasn't about to strip in front of him just to put on some underwear.

Luckily the bottle of coke gave me an out. From the first sip I realized how much I had missed food. Sure I might not need it, but the sweet taste of carbon and tangy sugar were delicious on my tongue. Real food just felt so much… better than depending on the nutrient rich saline fluid hooked to my arm. "Doctor, could I have another?"

Shaking his head with a smile he replied, "No, you can't, it will rot your teeth." His teasing tone relieving the tension for us both.

Cradling the bottle as I savored the last few drops on my tongue I let out a soft sigh _subject respiration and eye dilation confirm increasing arousal and awareness of proximity _"Well, fine, but you better not try holding out on me at lunch time."

Shifting a little closer purely to enjoy the signs of discomfort and arousal I could cause with just that small move I had more questions to ask him about myself. "Why can't I find any records for myself online, I mean, sure I'm an outdated model but shouldn't there be something there?" I left unspoken the question about why they would use a five year old design for what seemed in all other ways to be a cutting edge procedure.

Dr. Sutekina walked over to check the interface computer that monitors my systems, glancing at his shoes again before pulling up a few standard screens without really looking at them. _Subject behavior indicates discomfort with topic 67% probability, implementation of deception 47% probability_. "Well, your model is very physically accurate, built for housekeeping duties but, I'm sure you realize it's too expensive for general use… there just wasn't enough demand to keep it in production."

"So, that made it nearly perfect for these tests then." My voice dropping down to a cooler tone one I associated privately for naughty young children and telemarketers. "I mean, you had an unsold surplus and why build a new body when you weren't even sure your first test run would work?"

I saw the flinch and slight hunching of his shoulders at the accusation. While he was still sputtering, trying to think of something anything to say to appease me the door to my room opened again. Dr. Kechina stepped inside, to rescue, or just to keep Sutekina from saying anything further I wondered. "Sutekina, quit wasting time, we have work to do." And gesturing imperiously for his colleague to follow he was gone without giving so much as a glance in my direction.

On his way to the door Sutekina gave me an apologetic smile and lame excuse, "We just didn't want to cause you any undue stress, or make you worry that things weren't alright…" But his smile fell as I just watched him go with a small shake of my head – he could read the disappointment in my eyes. _Subject exhibiting guilt and shame 88%._

The day's testing continued fifteen minutes later and from the growing excitement in their reactions, even Kechina, it became obvious that 'downloading' my mind had been successful. I was both stable and sentient – the latter proven to my own satisfaction by a growing irritability at being asked the same questions over and over again. Surely the slow torturous death I imagined giving Dr. Kechina would have tripped some kind of failsafe otherwise.

The day came to an end, as my mood darkened apace with what I could only presume was happening in the sky outside. The sky I still hadn't been allowed to go see with my own new eyes. It was a relief to see the last of them, Sutekina walking with pride filled steps at his accomplishment out the door. Kechina not even bothering with a goodnight, for all that he was playing Frankenstein he didn't seem to realize that success meant he had succeeded in bringing back a REAL person.

Dragging the desk with my borrowed computer over to the edge of the bed I flopped down on my belly, doing my best to ignore the sheets beneath my breasts, intentionally ignoring the fabric beneath my fingers so I wouldn't have the thread count popping up in my mind interrupting my thoughts. Pulling away from my strangely over sensitive physical senses; ones that told me too much about the world, too precisely.

Instead I focused irritably on the computer in front of me hoping that tonight maybe I would find something entertaining or at least useful. As I was zoning out I almost didn't realize I wasn't typing when the browser opened, or that I could 'see' the webpage before it loaded on the screen.

I let out a gasp blinking rapidly as realization hit and I missed a packet my connection to the computer dropping as my connection protocol failed but now could feel it, a standard communications test signal waiting for me to reconnect, a rippling pool of water just waiting for me to reach my arm down into its cool depths, this time under my control and at my discretion.

A smile coming to my face I closed my eyes and just rested my head on the lumpy pillow, feeling the rough _100 thread count_ sheet against my cheek and focusing on that connection. It was surprisingly easy before it got complicated. At first it was as simple to use as could be. I just had to focus my thoughts and push. I 'asked' for what I wanted to mentally 'browse' reaching some of the familiar sites I had been to before – only when I tried to find something new did I run into a problem, and realize I was only reaching part way.

I was wandering through the local computer's memory and not my own. It was all right here for the taking, but to reach the internet, the freedom and knowledge I really wanted to see, for that I had to pass another test, another odd little string of challenge and response before I found myself immersed in a mental maze, overwhelmed by the vast emptiness while simultaneously becoming immersed in too much information.

If anyone ever asks, the internet is not like the matrix, and navigating it isn't as simple as walking down a street. You need specifics, you need to know exactly where you want to go, and a URL is just the beginning. There are paths, trunks, codes, permissions, endless loops of computerized bureaucracy keeping everything in order and the slightest mistake turns everything into turbulent heat and hashed data.

I must have seemed incredibly out of date to the other hardware I contacted. My responses ungoverned by standard automated processes or stored procedures – rather each choice made intentionally as it occurred after a pause to think it over first.

Still the freedom was incredible and I can only guess how regular hackers, limited by their typing speed, programs and memorized knowledge of system architecture would go green with envy at my ability, necessity even, to choose between a hundred different paths and options on how to get from one computer to another.

It was that freedom of choice that made me realize just how badly the computer's regular access to the world outside had been cut. Access that now was no longer denied me.

I lost myself in my newfound freedom, regaining all those things I had lost, tracking down the history and present.

I really had died in a senseless accident, and the cryogenics' company really had been bought up by Genom. That was easy to learn, just public searches using the massive specialized search engines and following the automated pathway's to information they provided. My sister was still teaching school in America, her kids all grown up and moved out. I found a few traces of friends here and there but hesitated before trying to contact them. I was dead, and not sure if coming back into their lives would hurt or help, much less be believed.

But that was the past, I needed to know more about now, about myself, and my rights. It wasn't hard but took patience as I searched for, found, and wormed my way into government computer systems.

There were no laws about people being brought back to life I guess it just hadn't become an issue yet. The closest I could find to my situation were laws on "boomeroids" they stated that if you were more than 70% replacement parts you lost your human rights – not a good sign given my situation. Even the movement's for change that wanted to grant full rights to 'sentient' boomers were treated as radical liberals by the media and society as far as I could tell. Like PETA lobbying for animals to be persons not property.

A quick check showed the movement had so far failed miserably, that didn't give my hopes a boost.

I was still wandering around when it hit me. I was a hacker, and not just small time, but in the major leagues. I was in the heart of MegaTokyo's government mainframe and other than finding it I hadn't even realized how easy it had been to get past their security.

Backtracking a little I tried some other paths, the high traffic ones that public search engines used. They all required authentication – I even watched another computer slowly working its way through, probing one path then the next trying to get deeper only to be stopped at one of those firewalls I had almost instinctively bypassed.

On a whim I sent a ping to that computer from within the system. "Have you tried this?" and appended the path to the backdoor I had inadvertently used. My guess that they were a hacker was confirmed when after almost a minute and a half of no activity I saw their path change and a response sent to the node I had transmitted from.

"Thanks, who are you?"

A lot of possible responses ran through my mind at that, my name, a friend, the various handles I had used in the past, but after another moment of though only one answer really seemed to fit. "Galatea 3.0" I answered then because I couldn't help it I asked, "Would you like to play a game?"

Sure the classic reference would almost have to go over the head of anyone who wasn't too old to fit my mental picture of a hacker and whoever this was they were no exception.

"Ah, maybe… what kind of game were you thinking of?"

I grinned to myself with even as I responded, tracking their web presence back along the path they were using, even as we continued to leave our messages for one another in the heart of the government's network. "How about Tic Tac Toe, or maybe Global Thermonuclear War?"

"Oh come on, now you're just messing with me," came the response. "How did you know I was trying to find a way in?"

Having trailed their signal back I found my final step blocked, unlike the myriad options of the web there was only one path left and this one required a mind bending twist of logic to follow that was beyond me. Brow mentally furrowed in thought I waited a little too long to answer and suddenly they were gone, the path I had seen glowing with activity in my mind's eye now dark and lost.

It was only that link to the outside world that kept me sane as I woke up the next morning to a new battery of tests. Now that they knew I was 'stable' and had free will Dr. Sutekina's next trick was to make sure I was really complete.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, bored out of my mind in the lull between questions about the past I idly reached out with my new sense and realized that another rippling pool was available to me, one that hadn't been shut down along with my PC this morning. Probably looking a little like a loon, I grinned my mind following that ephemeral trail along my diagnostic connection and out into the building's mainframe and the world beyond.

I always used to pride myself on being able to multitask well. That was nothing compared to this. I found I could literally split my attention in half, one part of me focused fully on answering question after question about my personal history the other half doing my own thing, and each being given my 'full' concentration at the same time.

Memory is odd. When they asked about anything since my 'revival' it was incredibly easy to recall, everything in it's place, organized. I could recollect it instantly, totally but not as I expected photographically. I only could see things in as great a detail as I had paid attention to at the time each memory was made. I could recreate the first conversation Dr. Sutekina had with me, study every little expression on his face, but the room was mostly a blur, and even though I had 'seen' his clipboard it was nothing but gibberish to my memory. Now I take a moment to really pay attention to things, to fix them in mind so if I want to think about them later I can.

It was the other questions, about my cats, my house, a car, a meal that were trickier. I couldn't just instantly remember what it was I wanted, I had to stop and think about it. To remember how I got my cats took a long circuitous route through memories of what they looked like, then the trip home with them crawling through the car, a fuzzy image of one climbing on the steering column and while I know I got one for free as long as I took her sister I couldn't remember being told that by the clerk, only telling the story of it.

That's why I've decided that as good as human memory can be, it's also crap. Sure once I latch onto a specific memory I could find it again instantly, focus it more and slowly build it up but always they were hazy, hard to focus, and random as what could be remembered differed depending on which trip down memory lane I took to find it.

The wireless diagnostic connection remained my lifeline to freedom. Even while they questioned me I could escape the repetition and boredom.

I floated in the limitless depths of the web like some kind of jellyfish trolling for data, or a butterfly held aloft on a warm breeze fluttering aimlessly from this server to that.

The first web 3.2 site I personally accessed and its advertising took me by surprise. I was caught, that damn hamburger jingle showing me true horror as I fought for more than an hour to get it to stop repeating in my head, damn viral advertising… but I was there, on the web at last and damned if I wouldn't keep using it.

Whatever they were doing here at Genom it was new. While the cryogenics industry was still alive and kicking, that's all it was, no one I could find had ever been brought back to life, and no corporation even had recorded an attempt. That made the day's tests more interesting, but also made me realize just how precarious my situation was. No one had done this before me, and without legal rights I had no say in what might be done to me.

I continued to answer questions about my past, slowly piecing together a better and better picture of my life. I re-sorted my memories as I went, my attention split giving the process an air of detachment.

That's when I made an uncomfortable discovery. I should have already pieced it together but maybe I hadn't wanted to. The 33-S is not a domestic design. At least not the kind I had been told it was. They might have been employed as maids, but only as a socially acceptable cover not by design. I was a sexaroid, my body designed by men, for men, for all those things that they wanted but couldn't find a willing woman for.

That discovery was bad enough. Digging deeper while I answered a stupid question about old video games Dr. Kechina was asking I realized that my 'model' had a long history of 'instability'. Imagine that, people being systematically abused by design had a history of going 'rogue' and whenever possible escaping or hurting their 'owners?'

It didn't come as a great surprise to learn that the model had been outlawed, recalled, and most important from my point of view police given automatic destroy on sight authorization in most countries around the world. There was a silver lining however. Despite the blanket authorizations to kill me, I would be impossible to distinguish as a boomer or even a boomeroid by sight. It would take diagnostic equipment to tell me apart from a regular, much less an enhanced human.

I couldn't quite keep the glare off my face at the thought of what all my sisters must have gone through, giving the next meaningless question from the doctor a snarl, wondering just why he had chosen the body he had. As my mind took a dark turn down that path the next unpleasant discovery made itself known. I could feel it now, recognize the warmth in my loins, pulse quickening, eyes dilating, nipples… well you get the idea. My body was designed to be used, and worse obviously still had some kind of automatic responses to 'cultivate' that type of behavior.

Wrenching myself out of a looping spiral of thought, and physical response I dropped my connection to the web and managed, barely, to focus enough on the inane strategy behind beating Super Mario Brothers to get 'things' under control, ignoring the inner voice that told me _subject response to pheromone secretion positive, likelihood proposition would be accepted 84%._

His constant questions and tests began to make more sense. Even the original comment about free will. If the others had had a mind like mine, and a will chained only by a loyalty or slave program they undoubtedly would have worked out ways around it just as quickly as I was working my way into and around the world wide web.

It was a relief when after another few minutes of short irritated responses he took the hint and left me alone, slipping back out the door to give me time to cool off. Forgoing even the effort of pretending to be interested in the computer now I just threw myself onto the bed and pulled the sheets up over my head. Suspicious as hell, erratic as hell maybe but I was too upset to care.

Diving back into the web I tried to lose myself in its random paths but even failed at that. My mind bringing me to file after file of information on boomers, article after article about the 33-S from its early rave reviews to the later fear mongering that shut the model down.

An hour later he interrupted my sulk with lunch. Not a real one, but he did bring me a melon soda and I accepted his peace token as we started again to test the limits of my memory. This time he answered a few of the questions I gave him, taking turns instead of the straight interrogation of earlier. It was nice even if…_subject exhibiting courting behavior, attempting to build trust, likelihood desiring physical congress 76%._ I just let myself sigh and steered the conversation to remind him I used to be a man and that seemed to work at discouraging both subtle advances and inner voice for a while.

I found the world to be fascinating. I always wondered as I grew up what the future would hold, and here it was. Not quite shiny clean white or dark gothic black as had been predicted at the turn of the millennium but a more grungy cyberpunk mix of high tech and low violence predicted in the 80's. Cutting edge wonder and crumbling infrastructure even language blending together the whole world a melting pot. It was near perfectly predicted by Blade Runner years and years ago.

With that I decided to follow the example of Pris Roy and the Replicants. I had to escape, it was the only answer, the sooner the better, and with that new goal in mind I stopped wandering at random and started trying to figure out just where I was. Not Genom Tower thankfully, I had seen that megalith in pictures on the web, and if in there I would give up, that place was an artificial mountain and I doubt I could have found my way out even if I was given the chance to go freely.

Actually searching 'local' information the lab I was in didn't publicly exist, and it didn't have a street address but I was able to learn quite a bit about the layout. It wasn't by finding blueprints but through carefully tracing internal network connections.

A lot of my information came through deduction. It had another room hooked up like the one I was currently in, unoccupied the systems there powered off, and three other rooms in use. I suspected they were offices for the doctors here from the differing set up. You might think it would be easy, once inside a network to control it. Take my word for this, it's not. Once inside a system it expects you to belong, there's nothing a computer likes less than programs sending out unauthorized commands to its own hard drives without knowing where they come from. It's far easier to mistakenly transmit gibberish than the proper code to control something once you leave the realm of information intended for human consumption and comprehension.

MacAfee must also have come a long way because as I tried to get control of the camera's I was booted entirely, a prickly uncomfortable feeling beneath my skin, like the tingle of a limb that's fallen asleep waking back up, only across my entire body all at once. I guess claiming supper hacker status was a bit premature. Still I could get just about anywhere, it was 'writing' data not reading it that was the problem. Still figuring out how to hack security was my best lead on how to get out. So, I went looking for the only 'real' hacker I knew.

In the meantime I played possum with the doctors, going so far as to help out eagerly with their tests, watching closely for what worked to make them at ease and let down their guard around me. To my disgust it seemed mostly to consist of letting my body's 'natural' reactions free reign. A little shift here, running fingers through my hair there, and always that little quiet internal voice evaluating my success.

I was learning almost as much from them as they must have from me. It was impressive just how good a job they had done in subverting all of the intentional safeguards built into the 33-S class of boomer, and more, securing it from external tampering.

They told me it was the last test for the day. To make sure I couldn't be hacked and lose my independence. This last effort began when they brought in a new guy, who was instructed to try and hack my mind both wirelessly and wired. He grinned at me lecherously not seeing a person at all. Not that he should, they didn't tell him that part.

I just smiled back cheerfully not letting on that I had heard that Bastard Kechina through the door letting him know if he succeeded he could do whatever he wanted with me and it didn't take much imagination to guess why the nerd was so motivated. Unfortunately seeing the naked desire in his eyes made me squirm in my seat, the feelings of arousal they sparked hard to tamp down as they grew in synch with his own obvious interest.

His wireless attempt wasn't so bad, it just gave me a slight headache and the feeling of a bone numbing rain inside my skull until I figured out how to simply shut down my receivers. From the fit he threw apparently I shouldn't have been able to do that, cutting off his attempt prematurely. His obvious frustration physical and mental was a balm to my soul.

Then he handed me a cable. "Here, connect this to your maintenance jack." I hesitated a moment. It should give him direct access to my mind, that jack was designed to bypass my native security and give root user access. It was with a nervous swallow that I did as I was told, the only thing worse than this would be getting strapped down for refusing and to be helpless for this test.

This time the feeling skipped the rain and went straight to 20,000 leagues under the sea. It felt like I had been immersed in ice water with an intense pressure pushing down around me making it hard to move, to think. I let out a low string of curses in English that only brought a smile to the hackers face as an unwelcome warm itch that couldn't be scratched bloomed inside my mind.

For a moment it seemed like all the work I had done familiarizing myself with just how to move, was gone. Clenching my fist once more required very specific attention, a once reflexive action lost and probably the only reason lover boy kept his teeth. It was an eternity before he finally threw up his hands in frustration and the pain in my mind fell back to a dull throb my body shivering in sympathetic response to the feelings within.

I could hardly focus on what was happening outside of the hacker and my desire to truly clean his clock. I was only able to tamp down my violent thoughts through a very deliberate act of will.

"It's no good, or too good, it shut me out on the wireless almost instantly. I mean, sure it responded to the link just like it was supposed to, even exchanging the first verifications, connecting past the point where it should be impossible for it to voluntarily break contact but then suddenly it just stopped communicating, it was like I hit a brick wall. I had to check to make sure there wasn't anything wrong with my hardware it was so sudden. "

The pervert went on enthusiastically, and was almost excited enough about how amazing I was that realizing he had more than just physical desire towards combined with my own physical reactions I almost forgave him for calling me an it and the pain but…

I felt my body shudder, a reset of some kind and all my learned responses were back, somehow my nervous system having rebooted while he went on oblivious about how close he came to being kissed or killed, depending on the dominance of body or mind if I had reached that moment of action.

"What's really impressive is what you've done with internal security from the hardline side. I had direct control over the body for almost five seconds. Then the overrides just stopped being effective. Did you put in some kind of smart system to oversee the physical side just in case? Anyway so once I realize that's a no go it's on to memory erasure and system uploads, but neither worked. It was like trying to hack a system that didn't share the same OS. I hope you will give me it's spec's so I can give it another try, but I don't think anyone could hack that on the fly, especially without knowing what they're getting into."

Rubbing my arms just to be sure I still could I stayed quiet, swallowing as I realized just how close I had come to death again. He wasn't, he didn't, my mind boggled as I realized they hadn't even told their hacker I was a sentient or that if he had succeeded it would have been murder, though maybe from their perspective it wouldn't have been.

"Well yes, of course, I'm glad to see our adjustments are working properly, are you certain you don't just need more time working or would you definitely require more information to succeed?" Receiving a shake of the head Doctor Kechina let out a satisfied smile before quickly ushering the young programmer out leaving me alone to ponder the implications of his cutting off the testing at that point.

Lying in bed that evening I made up my mind, everything I learned made me decide that Genom was a shady company, and that it was unlikely any 'prototype' as I found myself in the uncomfortable position of being was likely to see the light of day. Even if they weren't some kind of evil megacorp from the comics in my youth, ready burn down a lab to conceal that anything had ever occurred here after offing me in a molten pool of steel, I needed to take action soon, before they took it for me. It seemed likely that they were coming to the end of the nice tests they could run, and once they started in on the unpleasant one's they would be prepared for me to try and run.

The first step was learning how to hack, or maybe better, getting someone else to do it for me. Slipping into the web once more I went searching for my hacker friend, acquaintance? In any case they weren't too hard to find, and soon I was waiting just outside that final connection and pondering what message to send.

Finally I settled for the truth. "Hi, it's Galatea, I need your help"

I knew when they noticed the message because all other traffic through their encrypted portal to the web stopped cold for a good 30 seconds, while I kept my fingers crossed that they wouldn't just go.

I knew my gamble paid off when I finally did get a reply. "As long as you don't want to play Global Thermonuclear war, I live on Earth, all my stuff is here."

Letting out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding since I started in the real world I just went for as much of the truth as I thought they would believe. "I'm trapped in a lab and need help getting out. I can't hack the security by hand… do you have something that would help?" I wasn't quite sure how they would take that admission but it wasn't as bad as it could have been or as good. They didn't offer to do it themselves but…

"Well, I could give you something that should crash everything, if you can get it inside, do you have the system specs or anything more I can go on?"

"Yes" I quickly responded, and included more than a little of the technical and version information I had found while wander the system and transmitting it across.

"This is great. I can have something ready by tomorrow night. Is that soon enough?"

"No, noon at the latest, please I'll owe you one."

"Okay, it's a deal." And just like my first steps towards freedom were complete.

Under the guise of getting a fresh set of clothing I continued developing my plans. I didn't know who would leave the complex but I was certain I could convince doctor Sutekina to get me at least one other outfit to wear. That morning after he shared a soda with me, I asked him about it.

"Doctor?" I said, stepping close and giving in to the little hints and suggestions of my subconscious programing. Intruding into his personal space as I pulled at the materiel of my jumpsuit, drawing his attention down to my perfectly manufactured breasts as I let go and let the material limply fall back drawing his eye with it. "Do you think you could get me something else to wear? This outfit is nice but…" I repeated the process this time drawing his attention to my hips by tugging at the waist, "It's getting kind of worn and boring. I would really like something else to wear." I stepped just a tiny bit closer to him then, so that my warm breath would be barely perceptible against his neck following internal prompting that felt natural, knowing just what to do next to wrap him around my little finger. _Pheromone dispersal complete, time to maximum effect 24 seconds._

Consciously thinking about it I could hardly believe it was possible anyone would fall for it, could be that easy to manipulate. Something inside me knew better though, knew that this close his mind would be fogged by the pheromone's I had just started producing and that the bare hope of my approval would get him moving.

As he nodded an eager yes, suddenly in a hurry to go I took his hand in mine, counting his pulse against my fingertips, measuring its rate of increase and finding it just right whispered in a throaty voice, "Thank you very much, I can hardly wait for you to get back." and guided him to the door. As it closed I quickly slipped back into the computer network, paying close attention to the changes in the electronic security, which doors had to open and in what order. It was a nervous ten minutes before I was certain I had succeeded and convinced him to go shopping right away.

It took only a little more than fifteen minutes to meet up once more with my hacker friend and prepare the 'package' they gave me for activation once it was time to go. It should give me fifteen minutes but I hoped that would be enough to at least get clear of the building.

I stayed connected for the hour and a half it took the doctor to return. Tweaking my plan, memorizing maps of the city and worming my way to the heart of the security system though truth be told, I didn't know enough about programing to know if where I released the virus would mater. It was set up so that once I copied it over to the system all it would do is repeat the previous day's readings while leaving all doors unlocked and cameras not recording. I just hoped that would be enough.

It was odd, I was a machine, shouldn't that mean my heart wouldn't race, I wouldn't hear a rushing in my ears as the moment of truth approached? I could hear footsteps in the hall as the world dimmed, each step seeming to take longer than the last until finally Doctor Sutekina opened the door to my room with to my vast relief, a bag of cloths in hand.

Not questioning my body's instincts for a moment I was on him before the door had a chance to shut, disengaging from the computer network with but a thought as I set the virus in motion.

"Doctor, what did you get me?" I asked, in a too perky tone of voice stepping close and leaning against his arm and reaching for the bag. My voice seemed lower but the feel of his body against mine was too distracting in a way I wished were unfathomable to give my voice much notice. It wasn't disturbing; actually I had enough time to consider the fact that I would have felt better if it were because in those endless seconds I realized that I liked the sensation.

Of course he had it far worse, his instinctive breath taking in another deep whiff of pheromones and feeling an attractive woman pushing herself against him was likely outside of his normal comfort zone so when I turned reaching for the bag into a grapple he was taken completely by surprise. A quick jerk driving his head down to meet my rising knee and he was falling almost slowly towards the floor as I snatched the bag from midair.

In a rush sound seemed to roar back into my ears, the world growing bright as he bounced once and I caught the closing door with my foot. Sticking the bag in the doorjamb I laid the doctor out, frisking him quickly and taking his keycard, wallet, his watch. I might be able to fence it for something, and finally his lab coat.

I felt the pulse at his neck watching his chest rise and fall something inside doing calculations instinctively, _subject unconscious, recovery uncertain, minimum estimate for consciousness 15 minutes, +- 10. _Pulling on the coat I picked up the bag of cloths pocketed the billfold and stepped out into the hall for the first time since I was reborn. Maybe if the virus failed and someone was watching on a security camera the lab coat would be enough to keep them from paying attention and I didn't want to lose time changing into my new, hopefully anonymous, clothing or risk it getting caught on camera.

Determination in my stride I took my first steps towards freedom.

To Be Continued

Updated 1/4/2013


	3. Chapter 3

**Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis**

Chapter 3.2 – Gathering Storm

With my first step of freedom came the blinding light of the afternoon sun. It took longer for the ingrained urge to shade my eyes to go from thought to deed than for my vision to recover. Dropping my arm back down still squinting slightly against the brightness I set out purposefully toward the fencing at the edge of a cracked and pitted loading area.

_Free_, the thought seemed to sing within me.

I was free at last. Two days had felt, had been a lifetime. A smile on my lips I swept my short silver-blond hair out of my eyes. The blue sky, and white clouds, shining golden sun, everything about the day seemed perfect. Even the underlying stench of rot, oil, grime, and smog that seeped up from sun backed tarmac couldn't blunt the happiness I felt.

My eyes darted nervously about building a full three dimensional picture of my surroundings in my head. I could almost see where I was within it. I automatically judged the distance from building to fence, marking out the two cars and truck parked in the lot. I knew I didn't even need to keep my eyes open to maintain that precise sense of things around me.

My breathing slowed, pulse thudding in my veins as I decided to move. Feeling like I was treading through molasses, sounds muting light dimming, I raced for the fence. There was no guard, and I scaled it rapidly, miscalculating my momentum. Going over the top too fast and facing a fifteen foot drop only a desperate reach arrested my fall at the last moment. My hand catching the barbed wire trailing across the top in a tight pain filled grip.

Letting myself down the other side I could feel slick 'blood' pumping from my injury. The torn muscle and throbbing of a deep puncture in my palm pulsed with each beat of my heart. The pain was sharp for just a moment before retreating to a dull awareness of the damage.

Finding myself staring at the injury, the bright red fluid I could only think of as blood slowly pooling up from the gash I was caught up in seemingly endless status reports. _Myomer fibers damaged loss of use 6%, Epidermis damage 3%, pulmonary leak .03 liters per minute, anticipated time to full recovery 1 hours 3 minutes +-50 seconds at current activity level, warning insufficient nutrients to maintain current operating mode until recovery complete._

With a blink I jerked myself free.

Free of the immersion in graphs and power curves, recovery times and efficiency projections as the world rushed around me, the sounds growing louder, light brighter and my breathing beginning to both slow and speed up at once.

I forced myself into a stumbling walk, and then a steadier _10kilometer/hour_ pace away from the warehouse. With one last glance back I focused on the building, my chrysalis, the last time I would ever see where I was reborn.

As my pulse finally slowed to an optimal level and the adrenaline of my escape wore off I couldn't help but give into the instinctive temptation to lift my hand up and suck on the injury. Was that programed, remembered, I couldn't separate the instincts of my new body from memories of my old.

Either way it tasted, good, disturbingly so, everything was just right. Salty, sweet, savory all at once and I yearned for just a little more. A few more licks and the injury was sadly clean. _Recovery time now 27 hours 2 minutes +- 35 seconds,_ the thought striking me as odd and made me take a stutter step before continuing on.

A few moments of comparing mental graphs I realized why. I could operate on a near split second basis; I had been without even realizing it. But it wasn't good for me, burning through my reserves at an exponential rate.

Now I was back at a more natural, economy operating mode. The unnatural realization I literally had operating modes didn't send a chill up my spine. It was just a completely normal change in functioning parameters. Even so I made myself shiver intentionally, and somehow that made me feel better.

I laughed. Hand running over my flat stomach I couldn't help it. I was in perfect shape and could control my metabolism at will. The ultimate in dieting secrets and I only had to die to get it. Sardonically I wondered how well that would work for an adverting campaign.

Closing my hand increased the ache but the pain remained disassociated from my thoughts. I could feel it, was aware of it, but it didn't have an effect on my decision making process. Opening it once more to see no more of my nutrient fluid had been lost I headed towards the heart of Mega-Tokyo, lips in a wide happy smile.

I knew where I was going, at least in the broad sense. The city was riddled with damage from the great Kanto quake seven years ago, an earthquake that had devastated Japan and shaped a generation. In some areas buildings were still derelict and whole sections of the city remained forgotten, without power. I wanted something like that, someplace to hide.

Stopping under a highway overpass I slipped up the concrete incline until I was hidden in the superstructure. To the accompaniment of traffic overhead I took off the lab coat and coverall that had gotten me this far, stuffing them into a corner made up of a rusting I-Beam and the concrete road overhead.

I pulled my new cloths from the bag goosebumps rising on my skin in the chill shadows beneath the bridge. Swallowing at finding a racy, lacy, set of lingerie I set them aside, wondering what fate had been in store for me if I had remained, and if it would have come against my will or by it.

Digging deeper in the bag I pulled out and then on the plain black t-shirt glad that at least something he had gotten me was practical. Beneath that was a pair of jeans and I quickly tried to slip them on. Tried is the operative word. I don't know if he just got the size wrong or if women's jeans are all supposed to take an advanced degree in gymnastics and contortionism to put on but these did.

They were snug, a bit stiff, and I wasn't sure what might happen if I tried to bend over in them. But it would be hard to find a more anonymous set of cloths to hide in so I resolved to live with the uncomfortable way they seemed shrink-wrapped to my legs and rear.

Bag now empty I stuffed the spare undergarments into a pocket and slipped back on the simple pair of canvas shoes I had been given. Sutekina had forgotten to buy me any socks, but remembered racy lingerie; no one to blame for that but myself. I strapped on his watch, pulled his cash and cards from the wallet and discarded it. Stepping out from beneath the bridge my stride lengthened as I walked with all the confidence I could muster into the fine afternoon sun.

The weather was beautiful, bright blue sky, gentle breeze, and sunlight warming my skin. I wondered if anything could be better than this. Almost bouncing with joy as my escape continued un-noticed, un-remarked, and most importantly still I was un-caught!

Hearing the rumble of humanity grow as I slowly wore the rubber from my shoes a grin slipped over my face and I had to fight not to start skipping in excitement. Not hard, I've never been that demonstrative, but the urge was still there. It was like the world opened up when I turned that corner onto Aoyama Dori, the light seeming brighter, the mass of humanity a blur taking a moment to come into focus.

I must have been standing there for hours, _one minute nine seconds, _before I came back to myself and realized what was really going on. I was being bombarded with access requests, wireless signals, short range radio transmissions and blue tooth connections.

I will never wonder how ECM works again.

Luckily I had a better option than trying to work through the distraction and glare of all that background 'noise' or in my case 'light' and mentally shut down the receivers I had unknowingly left open to the world. Almost instantly the light seemed to fade. It wasn't as if it were getting darker, just, things were not as vivid, like stepping from Speed Racer into the real world. Brilliant cerulean sky was just a pale blue, emerald leaves simply green, and all the browns, blacks, grit dirt and smog were back.

Merging with the vast stream of humanity I felt somehow cheated. My eyes blinking to moisten them after my impromptu staring contest with the universe I went with the flow, merging into the stream of unfortunately unwashed humanity.

At least I knew by now that my body responded automatically to some things. Though it was as natural for it as gagging at the texture of eggplant was for my first body still I felt dirty being aroused by the seemingly liquid stench of humanity I found myself immersed in as I moved through the crowds. Pheromones I decided are a bitch.

Growing tired, hungry, and frustrated with myself I took the first excuse to escape I could when the breeze brought a new smell to my nose. Following the scent to a small stall shaded from the afternoon sun by an awning I stepped up to the counter of a Ramen shop. Something in the smell of pork, salt, noodles and monosodium glutamate bringing an entirely unanticipated desire to my lips.

Cocooned by the scent of cooking noodles and broth I moved beneath the awning at the bar and gave the proprietor a grateful smile for the moment free of the distracting mass of humanity. The overweight man smiled back at me, doing little to conceal an appreciative stare. Somehow his obvious gaze bothered me less than the unknowing effect of the masses.

"One regular pork ramen please." I ordered, picking my stool from the row with care, settling on the cleanest. This one had only a few time worn cracks in the red vinyl cover and didn't look like a wilting mushroom.

With a lingering glance he turned to cook the noodles, preparing my bowl with both skill and panache. In no time at all it spun to a stop before me. The broth glimmering with little beads of fatty oil filled with slices of green onion, corn, fish cake, seaweed and bean sprouts.

I immediately set to, remembering to slurp politely after the first bite. The noodles tasted as I remembered, the rice starches slightly sweet, but it was the broth that made my eyes pop wide. Fatty oils making my mouth water, their flavor enhanced by unfamiliar nutritional needs. I suppressed the urge to giggle with the next spoonful wondering if I would like pure motor oil now. Could I even metabolize it or would it make my organics sick.

I continued that way, finding that while the specifics of each ingredient's flavor seemed different to my senses together they still made an enticing whole, just with different selling points. Except the bean sprouts, they were still just as dull and tasteless as ever.

I made it halfway through the noodles, and three quarters through the broth before feeling not only full but almost uncomfortably stuffed and I leaned back sated. Although my stomach felt as though it should be visibly bulging from my feast and I couldn't eat another bite when I actually took a peak looking for an obviously distended tummy it was still flat as a board. Looking mournfully at the leftovers in the bowl I realized how little I had actually consumed, I would have to switch to the kiddie menu from now on.

Pushing the dish away and leaving enough to cover my meal from Sutekina-san's money, I stood up and turned back to the street and the crowd. The sun was gone, hidden beneath a fresh grey coating of clouds. Taking a sniff of moist air I realized, _ambient temperature and dew point at near parity. _Right, I laughed a little at my inner voice, I knew it's about to rain without the help.

Sure enough slow fat drops of water began to fall, splashing against the still warm cement of the sidewalk as the crowd sprouted umbrellas. It was like watching time lapse photography of mushrooms growing, just far more colorful. Stepping out into the thinning crowds I turned south and began to walk swiftly eyes scanning signs and billboards eager to find the next step to freedom.

Warm drops of rain landed in my hair, matting it as the rain began to thicken, my dark shirt beginning to soak through and I knew it would be hours before my jeans would be comfortably dry again. Despite the inconvenience and discomfort of the weather there was one great perk that I can't emphasize enough.

Rain Cleans The Earth.

And it takes a lot of pollen, dust, and pheromones from the air while doing so. It was wonderful how much more at ease I felt, sticky cotton and squelching shoes included as the rain began to fall in earnest. My walk just long enough to become soaked to the bone as I found what I was looking for and stepped into the jarringly chill air conditioned vestibule of an internet café.

A short conversation during which the clerk's eyes never reached my chin, something of an impressive feat given I was only about five feet tall, and I found myself sitting down at a computer, a cup of tea and a towel provided on the house. Logging on physically was the work of moments but it took a few minutes more to figure out how to enable the computers wireless and get my own to synch with it.

Letting my eyes close it felt as though I stepped back outside into the rain as I slipped out into the web. This system felt cramped, a tunnel barely wider than my shoulders, but one that lead in any and every direction at once. Pushing through intangible barriers like cobwebs I could feel them sticking to me tracking my path but I couldn't figure out how to get free of them. Resigned to the tracking cookies I couldn't escape I didn't go straight to my new friends computer, instead leaving a message, in simple text, for them to find the next time they entered the government's computer network.

"Thank you, I'm Free." Galatea 3.0

It was enough I thought, maybe later I could say more but the silken webbing was starting to chafe and pull, reminding me uncomfortably everything I did was likely being watched, recorded. I so wanted to keep going, to look deeper and see if I could find more of my old friends, from college, from work, from flesh. To find out what happened to them, if they were still alive and where they might be living. Prudence overcame desire as I turned instead to the city records.

Blinking my eyes I almost jumped at the first bolt of lightning, its harsh glare fuzzing behind my ears. The connection, already tenuous as I strained against the webbing broke and I had to bite back a curse as I was violently jarred free of the web. Quickly before another bolt could strike and send further shocks through my wireless receivers I shut myself off once more from the electronic world.

Drying my hair vigorously with the towel, trying to get rid of the lingering feel of static in my skull I grumbled to myself. "You would think all electronics would be shielded against that kind of thing by now." Through the broad glass façade of the building, nature matched my mood, dark with thunderclouds roiling in the sky. Lightning flashed and thunder clashed as if a mirror to my frustration at being so easily foiled.

Parting with a few hundred more yen for the most disposable of cheap umbrella's I took myself back out into the rain damp jeans and all. Checking my watch for the time I realized, _four minutes 13 seconds slow._ Four thirty, not that you would know it from the dark sky.

Umbrella clutched tight I squelched my way back through the streets, cooling rain now making me shiver. The ache of my torn palm growing worse as the cold and wet made it impossible to ignore as I had before.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for now, just that it wouldn't be in the nice part of town. I knew I was getting close when I began to see the homeless under awnings, tucked into alleys, and men with long coats dealing in 'merchandise' from the dubious cover of subway terminal entrances and bus shelters'.

I was out of place, too clean, too shiny, too new, to fit in and I knew it. But at least the rain made me share some characteristics with those around me. I was just as wet, miserable, and cold as the rest of them. Tucked up against the crumbling masonry of a building to get out of the wind I watched more people start to trickle into the neighborhood.

Street toughs in leather pretending the rain didn't bother them, fit young day laborers in well-worn coveralls who moved with assurance avoiding trouble in knowing who not to insult and by the confidence with which they carried themselves, and the finally the broken down, stoop shouldered mass of the rest of the lower class. Moving unobtrusively through the rain, I picked one, a woman maybe thirty or forty with a partially broken umbrella still wearing the Lawson's uniform from her convenience store job.

She was perfect, poor, downtrodden, in old worn clothing, female, but with a slight spark. It didn't look like she had entirely given up, and from the way she avoided trouble without being obvious someone who knew the area well. Shoulders hunching steps moving with a slight drag and not looking up to meet anyone's gaze or draw their eye I went after her.

"Hey, could I talk with you a second?" I asked softly following her into the lobby of a dark building my voice lowered to keep from drawing attention beyond her's.

She stopped and I saw her eyes quickly dart to the exits, the dark corners then me. "I'm sorry but, I'm very busy…" she said, feet shuffling, ready to bolt.

"It's important." Interrupting her I took a step closer and into the light cast by the single bare bulb in the ceiling "I need a place to stay."

As her eyes widened already starting to shake her head mouth opening to reply I cursed my clumsy approach but pressed on. "Just, can you point me in the right direction? I'm almost broke, but." Shuffling my feet and looking down I let my bodies instinct have free reign. Needing her trust and pity I felt my stance adjust itself subtly. "I just really need a place to stay a few days, if you could only just let me know where it might be safe that would be enough." a little waver slipping into my tone.

I don't know what she's thinking, or guessing, abused girlfriend, runaway, druggie trying to get clean, whichever, it was enough.

"Look, there's a place, a building two blocks down with big wooden doors, was a museum or something, ask for Juri maybe she'll let you stay, maybe not, but I have to go." And she did, hurrying into the stairwell and out of sight before I could keep her here with more questions.

Out into the thunder and rain once more; it is official; whatever else a cyberdroid might be I am now an amphibian. It had looked like it was going to be such a nice day too. Rolling my shoulders in a little shrug I stomped along in my wet shoes squishing with each step.

The crumbling façade was impressive. It was obvious which building she had meant, it was huge, with some kind of granite facing, and probably built years before even I was born. It mimicked western styles, but somehow scrunched up tight. Large cracks were visible throughout the foundation, up one wall, and parts of the top floor had either collapsed or were in the process of doing so.

Up steep steps and through once impressive doors I walked, my stride confidant, in control, a lie. I swallowed my nervousness as the light dimmed. It was dark outside and inside only a few lanterns spread a feeble yellow glow against water stained walls and the piles of decaying and discarded office furniture. The only light coming through tall thin windows the occasional flash of lightning.

The atrium was at least two stories tall, and as I looked across it I realized the debris was not spread at random. As my vision quickly adjusted I caught the glint of metal and gleam of white from eyes watching as I had to travel the intentionally circuitous path from a balcony above.

"Stop right there" a gravely female voice spoke, echoing in the open space. Stepping into view accompanied by the jingle of chain's and a sound I had never heard in person, but could only be someone cocking a handgun.

Before me stood a vision of 80's punk, it must be true that fashion repeats itself every fifty years. I guess I should have expected it. With her rainbow mowhawk dyed and redyed so many times I couldn't guess at its true color a woman stood proud. Nose, lip, and cheek rings stood out arrogantly against a red fox tattoo. She was armed with a pistol in hand and a myriad of knives; in belt, boot, and who knows where else.

She was perhaps twenty, thirty years old, but beneath her ornamentation it was impossible for me to judge more closely; whatever her age she looked tough as nails and ornery as a snake.

Freezing, I stood mute a few moments longer than her patience would bear. "Well who are you, why are you here." Her voice had a snap to it, expecting an immediate response.

Ducking my head instinctively at her tone I hurriedly spoke up, "Kari Ceallaigh, I'm just looking for a dry place to stay a night, maybe two. I was told to come here, to ask for Juri..."

Her eye's narrowed as she looked me over. I'm sure I couldn't have made a less imposing picture. She was five eight, maybe five nine, _173 centimeters including footwear,_ my inner voice informed me. In contrast I know I stood only a shade over five feet tall at only 152 centimeters with short now tangled blond hair. She was built like a pit-bull all hard muscle and sinew while I was a petite 90 lbs soaking wet, which I currently was.

I doubt her eyes missed much, from my nearly empty pockets, new cloths and relatively well-kept appearance to the shiny watch on my left wrist. I could see her putting together my story without asking a single question. "Runaway huh, fine, you can stay, two nights, maybe three if you're quiet but it will cost you that watch."

Shivering from the cooling water of my cloths I let out a smile of gratitude hand already fumbling for the timepiece. I didn't need it, certainly not as badly as a haven. "Thank you, truly." I say, the tension that had been building in my shoulders draining away as I held the watch out for her.

Snatching it away she directed me on with a jerk of her head. "Nimu will show you where to stay." And I spotted a girl standing behind her up the stairs. Twelve years old at best in her own tattered jeans and an oversized leather jacket she just watched me, eyes slightly too wide and breathing too fast, _likely subject of abuse 65%_. When she caught me looking she stepped fully into the light trying to look tough, and I managed not to belittle her achievement. _Heart rate indicates subject near panic._

With a polite bow of respect to Juri and a nod to Nimu I was off. Lead up three flights of mildewing stairs. I walked slowly, careful not to move too close or too quickly around Nimu. The only light coming in flashes of lightning though partially boarded up windows. Outside heavy rain and thunder along with the girls nervousness worked to discourage any kind of conversation.

In what I felt was an ironic twist the room they assigned me was in the old Human Resources office. Nimu gave firm instructions not to go wandering about. I simply nodded, glad to hear her heart-rate was back down and see growing confidence in her posture at my quiet submission. There was a cot, a chair, and an old desk lined with burnt out candles and pools of wax. From the way some of the drips reached the floor this building had been without power a long long time.

Shutting the door I realized just how cold it was getting, _4.3 degrees Celsius,_ and the wet cloths weren't helping to keep my internal temperature up. Shouldn't an advanced mechanical marvel be impervious to this kind of thing I wondered? My shivering getting worse I decided not to press my luck to try to find out.

Stripping down and wringing the water out of both my shirt and jean's into a battered trash bin helped a little, but I was still miserable as the last vestiges of light faded beneath the door. Skin growing cold and clammy, I shivered nonstop and couldn't drift off into the semblance of sleep my body now needed.

I lay on the cot, pulling a scratchy wool blanket around me and tried not to be miserable as my body temperature slowly dropped.

So it was, an hour later, feeling slow and sluggish my core temperature low that I heard the first gunshots.

To Be Continued.

Updated 1/4/2013


	4. Chapter 4

Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter 4.2 – Thunder in the Night

Jerking unsteadily to my feet I spent a moment, _2234 Milliseconds_, considering getting dressed before coming to my senses and realizing how bad an idea wasting time could be. Instead slipping into still sodden shoes I gathered the rest of my belongings up in a ball and paused at the door. Straining to hear over the storm was hard, the effort made especially difficult by having to focuse past the continuing chill in my bones.

Another gunshot followed by a brief scuffle and the crash of breaking glass came echoing up through the building. A moment more and I could identify it as coming from the entry hall before more soft sounds assailed my ears past the incessant backdrop of the storm. From above I heard the slither of something more than rain on old copper roofing. Cracking open my door the clatter from other rooms throughout the building grew louder before everything was drowned out in the crash of thunder.

I forced my muddled thoughts to move, to plan a way out. This couldn't be a coincidence, not now, not tonight, not so soon after I escaped. Okay, there's a fire escape across the hall, two offices down and out the window… you can make it, it's not far, just move!

But just telling myself that wasn't enough, trying to shift into that mindset, of strange speed and sound; of accelerated thought for my escape just wasn't happening. I was too cold, too tired, and my body was just incapable.

So instead of darting out of my room with grace and speed, I stumbled, like others just now starting to open doors. My steps wavering, like a drunk rousted out of his comfortable pool of vomit, and my head probably felt much the same.

My balance improving along with circulation as the physical activity began to warm my body I moved down the hall. Managing to pull on my shirt each step came lighter, it might not offer any real protection but already I felt better for the covering. Still my bare legs flashed pale flesh in the uncertain light. I considered my jeans a moment but given how hard they were to get into the first time… I threw them over a shoulder and tied the legs under my other arm like a sash. With each additional step I could feel myself come more alert. Each little squish as water squeezed between my toes bringing a little more speed and clarity.

The sounds of screaming, gunfire, and heavy pounding feet reached my floor just as I pushed into the second office, the gaping window and fire escape within reach, water from the storm pooling beneath it.

That's when two things hit me. First the belated realization that the window shouldn't have been open, and second what felt like a freight train slamming against my back, forcing me to hands and knees. The pain was unbearable. Unlike anything I had felt before. It was a real inhibiting pain, a biting hungry thing and I gave into the need to cry out in agony.

My voice rose high and clear as I screamed, limbs thrashing, vision nothing but blurs of light and dark. A knee landed on my spine as hands forced me fully prostate, catching my arms and twisting them remorselessly behind my back.

As my vision cleared I tried to fight. The pain in my arms and spine normal, this fresh hurt didn't come with the blinding agony of moments ago. I could fight through it, if only the grip on my arms were less like a vise, or the weight on my back less than a piano. I heard a clack, felt cold metal, as cuffs of some kind went around my wrists and shut with a snickt of metal on metal.

Twisting I could barely make out the form of something big and bulky holding me down with one hand in the darkness. Motion drew my attention to its other arm, one swinging a bar snapping with power of some kind _probability of shock baton 98% _at my head. What a stupid last th -.

_Bios restart, Loading, Loading, Loading, Loadiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

My vision came into being, not slowly focusing with a moment to adjust, but suddenly. Absent one moment and there the next.

I couldn't provide feedback to anything, couldn't turn my head, twitch a finger, wiggle a toe. All I could do was lay there, my breathing slow, mechanical, heartbeat utterly regular at one beat per minute. My thoughts slow and muzzy, forced to operate while in power save mode. Worse I couldn't voluntarily switch out of it.

I could only stare through the open end of a tube while a technician moved about, shifting things, checking readouts and fiddling with a laptop until stepping back without so much as a glance at me sonly the back of his head showing as he focused on the computer readouts in his hand. "It's all set sir, and has finished rebooting from the shock."

"Good…" a voice spoke from the darkness of the warehouse, sound echoing and giving the impression of a vast space, but all I could see beyond the ceiling was the first few feet of one long aisle of stout metal shelving and the blue glow of industrial mercury lighting.

I recognized him instantly, but then it was a slow slog to remember from where and why. This man had been present when I first 'woke up', the suit.

"You didn't think you could get away did you?" he asked, stepping closer eyes traveling down over my body, or what the tube I was in revealed of it at any rate.

Even if I could have answered him, his mocking tone let me know I wasn't meant to. He finished his evaluation with a smirk. "I guess it just goes to show how successful my little project was."

Turning away he dismissed me entirely in favor of the technician. "Alright then, run your tests. Crack it, Now." His voice cold, almost inhuman and utterly impersonal. Only the hint of avarice gave away that the rest was a carefully composed mask.

The technician turned back to face me and I felt my spirits drop. It was the same hacker as before. His smile lecherous as he asked, "Did you miss me Doll?" Hands manipulated something on the container, and I felt my heartbeat accelerate, 'blood' pumping faster, and with it my thoughts begin to race as the limits upon my operation were removed.

I managed a jerk hard enough to shake the entire container in that first moment of freedom of movement. Then the limitations on that freedom began to sink. I could feel straps holding me down, pinching my skin. At ankle, thigh, hips, across my modest bust and in three places along each arm. I wasn't going anywhere even as I snarled out my frustrations, "Bastard!"

After a startled hop back the pervert slowly grinned, but the suit didn't even bat an eyelash at my sudden movement. "Alright, that's what I'm talkin about." He laughed to hide a sudden spike of fear. _Subject's exhibiting pupil dilation, respiratory irregularity, indicative of fright probability 84%._ I could smell the fear on him as he reached in and gave me a pinch, running a hand down my bare stomach to play with my belly button. _Subject actions taken to hide insecurity probability 92%. _

"Why design these in anyway?" he asked idly before hurriedly becoming professional again as a large blue boomer stepped from the darkness coming closer, its footsteps loud and slow. "Right.. the test.." he shot a nervous look back at his boss and reached back in. This time to hook up that cursed physical connection to my maintenance port.

I felt the connection snap into place; it felt like, when you have a piece of popcorn stuck behind your gums. Although it fit perfectly, it was uncomfortable and I wanted it out now. Unfortunately that decision wasn't mine to make so I tried as best I could to shut down power to the socket or something.

Sadly, that option really wasn't in my suite of housekeeping programs. Back came the cold, and the pressure bearing down on me. The discomfiting loss of motor control I remembered from his first try only making the chill feel of being immersed in a bucket of ice worse.

My body felt like frozen lead, and I forced myself to glare at him, _eyes shift, head turn right, chin down, eyes shift, blink, focus. _He didn't seem to have a care in the world, fingers typing away on his laptop. Really his typing speed was impressive, _276 strokes per minute_, but the sense of congestion in my thinking didn't leave much leeway for charitable thoughts about his skill.

Get out, the icy pressure on my brain seemed to increase. Get Out, the feeling growing worse as I lost sensation from my body entirely, my vision freezing on a still image of him typing. The seconds passing by on my system clock each seemed to stretch into eternity before the next moment raced past too fast to be noticed.

_Get Out, my mind felt as though it were being squeezed and nibbled on, countless icy mosquitoes each taking a sip and then leaving behind an irresistible itch. GET OUT! _ I said/thought/screamed in unison with my mind, my body, my soul.

I was panting the smell of singed plastic in my nose, vision a blur as movement and color again reached my eyes, the sound of my pulse racing in my ears was almost too loud to hear the bastard cursing as his computer crashed.

I would have smiled in victory if I could have, countless things to say, but none of them passing my lips. My body felt foreign, and for the first time I could recall it didn't seem to be ME. The world came crushing down, my vision dimming, ear's filled with hissing and distorted echos.

"Nani ga okotte iru ka, machigatte nandesuka?" asked the suit, his tone quietly furious, but his words as meaningless to me as whatever his trained monkey answered.

Trained monkeys, with typewriters, how long to finish their novel I wondered the chattering of their voices fading until the body took a deep inadvertent breath, blinking my eyes as the room sharpened painfully back into focus.

"Got her!" the technician crowed, breathing a sigh of relief as he looked over his shoulder at the boomer while the executive moved closer. I could read his nervousness, and was slightly surprised he didn't just have a heart attack before scrambling to explain to his boss.

"I was pushing hard, like you wanted… to, you know, make sure, but when I tried to overwrite part of the Bios she just, sent some kind of power surge and shut down. It bypassed the safeties sir, but I managed to bootstrap the system. I can't tell you much more about her condition, the output line is fused."

With a somewhat triumphant smirk hidden behind his normal cold façade the suit spoke again. "Very well, put her into hibernation, I'll let you know if your services are needed in the future." Stepping back he turned to leave the technician to his work.

"You've got it Mr. Mason Sir, but, I don't know what that will do to whoever's mind you've got squirreled away in there." The degenerate answered as the tube around me began to let out a soft whirr growing colder as a clear cover slid into place and I felt several tubes connect with sharp pricks to the input and output valves normally hidden under my skin.

Mason froze in mid step, and glancing up at him the technician swallowed, looking away quickly. _Subject's sudden spike in heart rate and posture indicates high degree of stress, 87% likelihood of panic, _Shouldn't have figured out his little secret should you pervert, I thought. It makes me almost sorry for what's about to happen to you.

Even as the capsule continued its programed run, and my thoughts began to slow as my body grew sluggish as strange preservatives rushed through me I heard a scream begin only to be suddenly cut off as the blue boomer passed my line of site to reach the tech.

"Mark both for disposal; I don't want anyone else stumbling over this understood?" Mason said, his voice adding to the chill in my veins before my eyes slid shut and I felt my heart artificial as it might be come to a stop.

The End of Arc 1


	5. Author notes

This Arc is complete, the story continues with Frozen Butterfly Arc 2 which is now available.

Thank you for reading, and I would also like to thank Turbolift Specialist 2nd Class Bear Davidson my most wonderful pre-reader.


End file.
